


Daughter Styx

by VoiceOfDoomCalling



Category: Hades (Video Game 2018)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, I feel like the gods themselves don't understand it, Inaccurate Ancient Greek Religion & Lore, M/M, Mutual Pining, No one is actually pregnant technically, Pre-Game Events, Pre-Relationship, Unplanned Pregnancy, god magic is weird, slight body horror, timeline is screwy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29775591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VoiceOfDoomCalling/pseuds/VoiceOfDoomCalling
Summary: His mind races as fast as his feet and wings are inclined to.They say Gaia has given birth to many children on her own, with only inspiration as a partner; They said the same of Nyx too.Not to mention there’s that rumor floating around about Poseidon and that charioteer of his, Nerites. And the rather abrupt appearance of Anteros, who looked suspiciously like both of them. Hermes thinks absently.
Relationships: Charon/Hermes (Hades Video Game)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 79





	Daughter Styx

The pain had crept up on him after he bid Charon goodbye having had handed off the last of the day’s souls. What had been a familiar warm bubbling in his stomach had turned into an ache that slowly built up until he’d been forced to land, because gods. He knew he couldn’t be dying, Olympians cannot die, but dear Olympus did it feel like how he imagined dying to be. So, he landed—crashed, practically—in some remote forest, that had yet to be discovered by mortals.

Throwing his bag and caduceus to the side, he stumbled forward a few steps before falling to the earth as his body spasmed. A wave of pain overwhelming him again and again, and all he could do was scream into the dirt. Letting Gaia take the brunt of it, so that none of her children, and their children, and so on and so forth didn’t have to hear it. His son, Pan occasionally causes mortal hearts to cease.

Curious as he was to know what his could do, he dared not open his eyes, because the searing agony that had been washing over his body in pulses? Suddenly it became worse, something in him was tearing out, and all he could do was sink his fingers deeper into the earth, while his wings at his head and ankles beat the grass.

That was how it started three days ago; Gaia remarkably understanding all the while.

_I wonder if I were smaller, there would be less to hurt?_ Had been the last tangible thought he had before it all had turned into muddled agony.

Now, something breaks through the squall of pain, he swears he feels the earth shift beneath him, and a voice whisper, _“Not much longer, just a little more..."_

Finally, the core of where the hurt stems from, rips away taking everything that pains with it, and Hermes breathes for the first time in what feels like a decade without choking on an inhale.

Hermes turns his head and opens his eyes to see a baby girl laying near his face.

She doesn’t look like a newborn, she has to be at least a couple of months old, she was too big and aware of him. Denial rears its head because there was no way, but her features are unmistakably, a softer version of his own, albeit gaunt and gray.

His mind races as fast as his feet and wings are inclined to.

They say Gaia has given birth to many children on her own, with only inspiration as a partner; They said the same of Nyx too.

Not to mention there’s that rumor floating around about Poseidon and that charioteer of his, Nerites. And the rather abrupt appearance of Anteros, who looked suspiciously like both of them. Hermes thinks absently.

Which begs the question, what on earth had inspired him to…create new life?

The answer provides itself in the baby’s eyes, a familiar violet and what little hair she does possess: wispy red waves that looked like a certain boatman’s he knew. It was painfully obvious who her other paren—who Hermes’s had drawn inspiration for her was. She huffs at him, as if annoyed with his gaping, and a puff of red smoke escapes her lips.

Hermes smiles at her, tilting his head slowly forward until his forehead meets hers. Her skin runs cold like his associate’s too, though a fluttering warmth passes over her skin with each exhale she takes.

She does not belong on the surface.

Hermes forces himself up, ignoring how his body shakes, and pulls off his scarf. He needs to get her to the underworld soon. He’s seen what happens to those bound to it, that stray too far and for too long away from its depths.

Wrapping his daughter in his scarf he stands, but not before gently patting the ground. Sending his gratitude to Gaia. She did not have to play midwife; she easily could have ignored him. He swallows, and winces at the soreness in his throat, or perhaps ignoring him hadn’t been possible.

He sends an apology with his gratitude.

 _If Gaia sends a monster after me after all this, I won’t blame her._ Hermes thinks amusedly resigned, _Olympus knows I would be tempted if someone screamed in my face for three days._

Hauling himself up, baby cradled to his chest, he looks to where he vaguely remembers dropping his bag and caduceus. They lay there still, and thankfully the bag had not spilled its contents.

He’s certain it rained a couple of times while he had been...giving birth. He grimaces, before looking down at his daughter with a smile, “you my dear just might be the oddest birth, second only to Apollo and Artemis—they took seven days. You have replaced Athena; she came bursting right out of Zeus’s head fully grown and armored.”

They baby coos at him, reaching for his face, and Hermes swears that she’s smiling at him. He grins back and presses his face into her hair, breathing her in (she smells like how it does after it rains, unfairly like Charon) before he pulls away and walks over to his bag. Opening it, he pulls out a golden wool blanket that he used whenever the urge to sleep overtook him. Despite years of use, it still looked as good as ever.

His mother had given it to him centuries ago, a few months after he had been born and they were moved into Olympus, his mother had prepared him some lovely mutton that day too. Coincidently, around the time Hera had lost a precious gift from Zeus, a golden lamb.

“So, dear daughter of mine,” Hermes says, as he drapes the blanket over his deliveries with one hand, while awkwardly cradling her in his free arm. “I’m going to be carrying you in my bag, I’m not wild about the idea, but I promise you it’s safe. Your uncle Hephaestus made this for me, and he told me, and I quote, “go ahead and do your worst, I’ve crafted this so its contents can survive anything!” and he’s not the type to unduly boast.”

His daughter huffs again at him, unimpressed no doubt.

“You have a serious attitude problem, you know that? I blame Charon. Our first meeting was horrendous because of him. He took a swipe at me with his oar! Not nearly fast enough to hit me, but still. Hopefully, you’ll learn to communicate your feelings less violently… and more distinctly! It took decades to discover he considered me a friend!”

She squirms in his hold, and Hermes sighs.

“At least promise me, you’ll try. He can be an absolutely charming bastard when he wants to be. First time he took me out in his boat? He was a real gentleman, helped me in and out of it, despite my being able to fly.”

Gently he fits her in the bag, hoping all the while that she doesn’t decide to relieve herself during their upcoming trip. Looking down at her, taking her in, he whispers to her like he’s sharing a secret. “Truthfully, if you turn out exactly like Charon. That wouldn’t be a bad thing, his family and him are a bit dysfunctional—Charon hasn’t spoken to his mother for almost an entire century now—but they are all far kinder than me and mine.” Hermes gently taps her nose with a finger, amused by how she scrunches her face in response. “thankfully, all my kids inherit my razor-sharp wit, and not a single one of them lives in Olympus with me.”

Just remembering to grab his caduceus, he closes the flap of his bag, securing it over his shoulder before rising. Hermes takes one last look at the clearing around him, it looks like a tornado has run through it. What remains looks like it was not long for this world, and with the ground so torn up, if there was to be any recovery; it would be slow, and that just wouldn’t do.  
Tapping his caduceus on the ground, he gives the land a boon of his own. He was no Demeter, he couldn’t make the plants instantly recover and have the ground straighten itself out. But, he can hurry along the recovery of the plants, make them grow back sturdy and up to anything else life throws at them.

Tugging on the strap of his bag once more, he leaps from the ground and takes to the air, turning in the direction of the Underworld at first before hesitating. There was a town not too far this place, a day’s journey for a mortal, a minute for him. Clearly his daughter needs supplies, what kind of father would he be, if he did not spoil her? Just this once.

He takes off for the town, unseen when he arrives, to better steal whatever catches his fancy; from those who didn’t deserve what they had or those who could afford it.

Later, when he arrives at entrance of the Underworld, he’s relieved to see that Charon is nowhere in sight. It still feels like ripping out his own heart, but he imagines it’s easier to leave his daughter in a basket than if the boatman had been there.

///

Charon’s boat comes to a slow halt, as the boatman stares at what awaits him on his dock: A little girl, a little goddess that can’t be more than a few years old. She meets his gaze unflinchingly, as her hair, as red as the last nameless river in the Underworld, flows down her shoulders to the floor.

“I’m Styx.” She informs him with a mischievous smile. Lips quirked in a way that remind him of a certain messenger god—he mentally shakes the thought off, and dips his hat to her and gestures to his boat, offering her a ride, though he doubts she needs it.

The others had all shook their heads, and stepped into the once nameless river, now named Styx, and had made their own way to where they belonged. As self-reliant as himself.

He’s more than a little surprised when Styx nods eagerly. Then again, this is the first time he’s never felt the birth of one of his daughters before.

It was often a painful affair, as much as they had numbed over time. Always taking so much out of him that he required several days of rest, much to his chagrin and Hypnos’s amusement.

Slowly he steers his boat to the dock, ignoring the way she taps her foot impatiently. He’s not even ten feet close, when she loses all patience and leaps onto his boat. It rocks dangerously, but the hands of the Styx river rise to steady it.

He admonishes her with a glare, sighing when all she does is grin back. At least she was polite enough to not let the boat capsize.

Taking her in, he notes how terribly small she is, the golden blanket she wears not helping, it pools at her feet, and she needs both hands to keep it closed. He also sees an arm looped through the handle of a basket much too large for her as well.

Her sisters had all come out fully grown and tall, not one of them possessing a single thing of their own, save their names.

Styx pulls out an obol from her basket interrupting his musings, making him notice how the basket is filled with a variety of things. Lovely Fabrics, toys, and a satchel with far too many obols for a child to have. Still, the basket wasn’t even close to full.

He reaches forward and takes the obol from her outstretched hand, “Now you have no excuse to hit me with that oar of yours.” She informs him confidently, before sitting down at his feet.

None of his other daughters spoke quite as much either—

She leans back into his legs and beams up at him.

—Or were as affectionate.

It made him wonder if perhaps the fates had uncharacteristically changed their minds. That now, there would be one river that did not belong to a daughter born from him.

As he rows towards where the beginning of the Styx is, it isn’t even five minutes before she’s fluttering about the boat, staring at the shades they pass, at the structures that line its shores, at the few fish that wander near the surface. She takes it all in, silently pleased with everything, unabashedly captivated. Reminding him of the times he had taken Hermes out on his boat, albeit there was certainly more talking involved.

“I love the Gupps the most.” Styx proclaims suddenly, beaming down at her river, lightly running her hands over its surface.

Charon nods in agreement, the Gupps were the best, why Hermes was so captivated with seamares, he would never understand.

Styx turns to him, grinning. “I think I would like to pet one.” Before throwing herself overboard, leaving her belongings behind.

Charon laughs despite himself, shaking his head. No, she could not possibly be his daughter.

**Author's Note:**

> Not going to lie, I want to write more for this. But I’m not sure what would happen next. On one hand, I could see Styx telling Charon casually how she came to be, but on the other...I could see her deciding it’s really none of her business? 
> 
> As for Hermes’s actions, he really likes what he has with Charon. Why muddle it all up with pesky romantic feelings? Not to mention, he feels very strongly that Styx is far better off away from Olympians. Even him.


End file.
